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READING ACROSS CULTURES: TWO STORIES
FROM PAPUA NEW GUINEA ON ARRANGED
MARRIAGES
DANIELA CAVALLARO
University of Auckland
57
The issue of arranged marriages in a developing country may be a hazardous topic
for a European to discuss. In her 1982 essay entitled “White woman listen! Black
feminism and the boundaries of sisterhood”, Hazel V. Carby warns that EuroAmerican feminism often fails to comprehend the concerns of black women, due
to its “Eurocentric (and often racist) framework” (1982: 226). In particular, Carby
takes arranged marriages as an example of those family structures which the
Western World considers “pathologic”, as opposed to the “Western nuclear family
structure and related ideologies of ‘romantic love’” (215-216). The white nuclear
family, Carby claims, is the measure by which other family structures are judged
and often condemned by Western observers, who on the other hand ignore the
actual struggles of women in developing countries (216-217).
As a European woman lecturing in literature in Papua New Guinea, and interested
in women’s issues, I initially found myself in the position of those Western
observers that Carby criticized: faced with the existence in our own university
community and in PNG at large of marriage customs I was not familiar with,
customs that I considered a violation of women’s human rights, I would mainly
note their negative consequences as reported in the local papers: low self-esteem
on the part of women, abandonment, divorce and domestic violence. I also
expected literary works, especially if written by women, to express their concerns
with the customs and their desire to eliminate them. In my time in PNG, however,
miscelánea: a journal of english and american studies 32 (2005): pp. 57-68
Daniela Cavallaro
I had the opportunity to read several literary texts by PNG writers centered on the
issue of arranged marriages that challenged my understanding of it. In particular,
among the stories and plays on the theme, I searched for those written by women
–not an easy search, due to what critic Lolo Houbein in 1982 defined as the
“virtual absence of women writers” in the country (1982: 3).1 I was especially
intrigued, however, by two very different stories by Sally-Ann Bagita, a writer from
the Central province, who published a considerable number of stories and poems
in the 1970s and 80s, first in Papua New Guinea Writing and later in The Times
of Papua New Guinea, a magazine of which she also became editor.2 These two
stories, which I will discuss in this article, on the one hand seem to critique the
tradition of arranged marriage, as I would have expected. On the other hand,
however, they also appear to reveal that the problems are not so much in the
custom itself, as in the modern, Westernized understanding of it.
Marriage in Melanesia: the socio-anthropological
background
58
In Melanesian societies, missionary and anthropologist Ennio Mantovani claims,
marriage is not considered so much a union of two individuals, as of two
communities: “Traditional marriage is communitarian; two communities are bound
together through the couple” (1993: 14). Therefore, marriage, he continues, “is
basically a service to the community, establishing relationship and providing
continuity. It is not primarily concerned with the couple but with the society that
carries the couple” (14). In other words, when the community takes precedence
over the individual, the actual choice of partners themselves becomes less
important. The reason for the difference between the Western and Melanesian
understanding of marriage, Mantovani explains elsewhere, is that until very recently
in Melanesian societies biological survival “was found only in the community”
(1982: 5), and therefore individuals were willing to give up personal freedom for
the sake of the survival and happiness of the society (7).
This communitarian understanding of marriage thus explains the widely accepted
practise of arranged marriages, in which two families, or two clans, decide that two
people should marry. One example of this practice comes from the life experience
of Australian-born Lady Carol Kidu, the only female member of Parliament in PNG
and arguably the best-known public female figure in the country. In her
autobiography A Remarkable Journey she recounts how, in the early stages of their
courtship in 1965, her PNG boyfriend learned that his family had arranged a wife
for him. Kidu explains that in Motu societies, “marriage was a family matter
bringing together two extended families and very often betrothals were arranged
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without the involvement or consent of the people involved” (2002: 28). In this
particular case, both parties concerned were already involved with somebody else,
but that fact “was not really relevant to the families” (28).
In more recent times the custom of arranged marriages may not be practised as
widely as in the past, especially in urban areas, since people who live in the city,
who have an income and a house provided by their workplace, may consider
themselves independent from their kin group for their survival (Schwarz 1983: 4).3
However, the tradition is still widespread enough to cause concern in the church
and in women’s groups. In a pastoral letter of 1993, the Catholic Bishops of Papua
New Guinea and the Solomon Islands called on the grandparents and the village
elders to use “wisdom and integrity” in their decisions about the marriage of young
people, making sure that marriage agreements take into consideration “both the
good of the young couple and the community”, as well as “mature love and the
consent of the couple involved” (1993: 14). And a 2002 reportage in the magazine
New@gewoman quotes recent ‘case studies’ that confirm the continuation of the
practice of arranged marriages, especially in village settings, with or without the
consent of the two people who are to marry (Vere 2002).
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Two stories by Sally-Ann Bagita
The two stories that I consider in this article, set in the early 1970s, point
particularly to the problems arising when parents try to impose the custom of
arranged marriages on the younger generation –the first to be educated– who are
unwilling to follow them. The protagonists of Sally-Ann Bagita’s “Regret Not”
(1973) and “The Reluctant Bride” (1974) are young men and women who had
no choice but to accept a marriage arranged by their families. The stories, however,
focus particularly on the female characters and show how they react to the same
initial situation in very different ways.
Kiri, the protagonist of the short story “Regret Not”, is a sixteen-year-old girl who
has to leave her village in the Marshall Lagoon to marry an unknown young man,
Morea, who lives in Hanuabada, an urbanized centre in the vicinity of Port
Moresby. “Like most village girls” the narrating voice comments, “she did not
question the arrangement of the marriage or the suitability of the husband; she
accepted as it was the custom” (1996: 154). Nor did her village sweetheart. He
just watched Kiri board the ship that would take her to Port Moresby and sang her
a consolatory song: “Regret not that you are leaving behind your childhood
dreams…” (154).
Upon arriving at her destination and seeing both the “well built young man” (154)
who is to become her husband, and the large house provided with electricity and
Daniela Cavallaro
running water where she will be living, Kiri feels lucky, and decides to make the
most of the situation. The marriage arrangements between Kiri and Morea are an
example of customary marriage, without any proper ceremony to mark them. In
fact, they are conducted more like a business transaction than a romantic proposal.
On their first stroll together, Morea proposes a “bargain”: “Look after my parents,
and I promise you I’ll look after you and make you happy” (155). Kiri consents
and settles down happily in her new life as a married woman, assisting her in-laws,
going to the market, and discovering such thrills of city life as football and the
cinema with her husband. In due time Kiri gives birth to a baby boy, thus
strengthening her role in the family, and marking her right to be considered truly
married to Morea.
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In the meantime Lairi, an ex-girlfriend of Morea’s, now a widow, returns to work
in the same office as Morea, and their relationship is renewed. After a row with Kiri,
who has become suspicious of all his ‘overtime’, Morea leaves the house. He does
not return for weeks. One night a relative confirms that Morea is, indeed, living
with Lairi. After shedding “tears of pity for herself and her son” (158), Kiri decides
that she must go on with her life. The following day, as she and her child set sail
from Port Moresby, she hears a familiar song from a radio: “Regret not”, the song
reminds her.
In contrast to Kiri, Ikena, the female protagonist of Bagita’s “The Reluctant Bride”,
takes a much more belligerent attitude to the marriage that her family has arranged
for her with Boga. Her refusal to consent to the union, however, has gained her
nothing but a solid beating from her brothers, who first “belted her” and then
“drag[ged] her by the hair” (1994: 12). On her wedding day, when the story
begins, Ikena is so obviously unhappy that the planned dance is cancelled, and Boga
decides to play the gentleman, letting Ikena have the room to herself while he
sleeps on the verandah. Rumors of the arrangement reach Ikena’s family who with
an excuse call her home, where her brothers beat her again.
Having been expelled by her family, Ikena wanders about until she finds a cave.
There she spends a few days, regaining mental and physical strength, until Boga
finds her. But instead of dragging her home by the hair, or sending her back to
her parents where she would surely be beaten again, he offers to take her to the
YWCA, where she will be safe and can start a new life. As for himself, Boga plans
to move to Bougainville, never to return to his family, or allow them to force him
“into another unhappy marriage” (16). At that point, however, Ikena emerges from
her cave and puts a hand into his. “I don’t want to go to the Y” (16), she
announces, as the narrative comes to an end.
These two stories, although based on the same initial issue –a marriage arranged
by parents without their children’s consent– and both featuring strong female
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characters as their protagonist, also have a number of points of contrast: Kiri initially
doesn’t want to marry Morea because she is in love with somebody else, while
Ikena simply doesn’t like Boga but has no previous attachment. Kiri decides to
make the best of her situation, however, and at first establishes a good relationship
with her husband, whom she has never seen before. Ikena, on the other hand,
refuses to have any contact with Boga before her wedding day and, although she
helps his mother with chores, she never talks to him. Readers may wonder if
physical appeal has anything to do with the two women’s different attitudes. After
all, Kiri finds herself tied to a “well built young man”. While Boga, although never
physically described in the story, obviously does not appear attractive to Ikena who
defines him as a “clumsy, unattractive pig” and a “wild boar” (11). The importance
of physical appearance in “The Reluctant Bride” is underlined by the protagonists’
names as well: in Motu, the language spoken in several areas of the Central
province, Ikena means “fit”, while Boga means “belly”.4
The protagonists’ social class and upbringing may have something to do with their
attitudes as well: Kiri is a simple village girl, easily dazzled by and content with the
wonders of electricity, running water and city activities. Ikena appears to come from
an upper middle-class family, who has planned for a Western-style church wedding,
complete with choir and photographer, followed by a reception and a dance.
Although no information on her education is given, readers might assume enough
Western influence on Ikena for her to dream of marrying for love.5 At any rate,
she hates the idea of being sold “like a prize pig” (12), while Kiri never expresses
resentment about the financial arrangements that accompany her marriage.
Nevertheless, although it may contribute to her being an obedient, docile,
hardworking, faithful wife, Kiri’s village upbringing may also be the cause of her
problems. It does not seem casual that her husband Morea should fall for a more
sophisticated woman, one who has obviously had enough education to work in the
same office as he, one who had previously married a foreigner and lived in Lae,
PNG’s second city. Moreover, she was an old flame of his, which again seems to
imply that he would prefer a city to a village girl. Although the story does not say
so, it must have been Morea’s parents, now city-dwellers, who sought him out a
village girl for a wife. Thus, the failure of the marriage must, in part anyway, be
laid at the feet of the parents, since they did not see –nor want to see– that their
educated son would not be satisfied with a village girl.
The families in the stories get involved in a different way as well: Kiri’s parents seem
oblivious to her initial suffering, but care enough to stay with her and her new family
for as long as it takes to make sure that she can cope with the new situation, until
they are sure that she has “settl[ed] down happily in her new role” (1996: 155).
Morea’s parents are satisfied with her performance as a wife, and put together a
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Daniela Cavallaro
considerable bride price for her, after she produces a son. Although they do not take
an active role in trying to patch up the marriage, when Morea’s relationship with Lairi
is rekindled, they are obviously distressed at the idea of Kiri leaving with the child.
Ikena’s family seems to be reduced to a sympathetic but powerless mother, and a
few evil brothers, who, whenever she rebels, resort to beating a bit of sense and
obedience into her head. In fact, when her hideout is discovered, Ikena fears that
they have come “to murder her” (1994: 15). In other words, Ikena’s family does
not appear so much concerned about her happiness or marital arrangements, as
about gossip and the possibility of losing (or having to return) the bride price.
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Apart from his sister’s helping Ikena get ready on her wedding day, Boga’s family
does not receive a mention until the end of the story. It is only at the end, in fact,
while Boga is waiting outside the cave for Ikena to change into the clean clothes he
has brought for her, that the focus of the story switches away from her and onto
him. The readers enter his thoughts and discover that he too was forced into the
marriage, and the only way out would be for him to move as far away from his family
as possible –to Bougainville, the northern part of the Solomon Islands that now
belongs to PNG. At any rate he makes it clear that “he would never return to
Hanuabada” (16). Thus Bagita’s story stresses the fact that women are not the only
victims in arranged marriages, but that this custom may bring unhappiness to both
partners. Even in “Regret Not”, moreover, although the story and the audience’s
sympathy were focused on the female protagonist, readers are not allowed to forget
that Morea too was forced into a marriage that he did not want, as discussed above.
Although both appear to ask whether happiness is possible in an arranged marriage,
the endings of the stories give a different message. Kiri does all that is in her power
to make a good life for herself and her husband: she accepts him promptly, works,
stays in a good mood, respects and helps his parents, and bears a son. In sum, the
story depicts her as a faultless wife, who has kept her part of the initial bargain.
Nonetheless, her husband abandons her.
Ikena, on the contrary, does nothing to help the situation: she refuses to get to
know her betrothed, avoids intimacy with him after the marriage, and finally runs
away from him. All this because she did not have romantic feelings for him.6
However, as she eventually discovers, it is not physical appearance that counts in
a marriage. Boga reveals himself to be gentle, sensitive, caring. He is interested as
much in her happiness as in his own. And so, she figures at the end, he may be
worth giving a try after all.
In sum, Kiri does everything she can to make her arranged marriage work, yet it
doesn’t. Ikena does everything she can to stop her arranged marriage, and make
it fail once it does happen; yet in the end it seems she may have been fortunate
enough to find a suitable match, after all. Lolo Houbein, in her article on the
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theme of love in PNG literature, concludes that the author “merely wanted to
portray how different individuals reacted and coped with a situation which is
dictated to them by custom” (1982: 23).
Houbein’s analysis of Bagita’s stories, however, does not take into consideration
one important episode in “The Reluctant Bride”, which would offer an alternative
form of life for the female protagonist, and whose significance is underlined by the
illustrations in both published versions of the story. As I have already mentioned,
after being beaten again by her brothers, Ikena runs away and finds shelter in a
cave. But it wasn’t just any cave: it was known only to Ikena and her grandmother
who used to make her gardens in the vicinity. There, using a net that used to
belong to her grandmother, Ikena lives from the fish in the river as well as some
forgotten vegetables. Thus the cave offers a secure shelter, and in this safe, secluded
space, as she loses track of the passing time, “Ikena’s body beg[ins] to heal” (14).
The author has marked the cave as a sacred woman’s space both from a physical
and spiritual point of view. It is a secret female space “covered over with vines and
shrubs” (14). Moreover, it comes to Ikena through knowledge inherited from her
grandmother, in a sort of female genealogy that may save her, and offer her a role
model: a strong grandmother, as opposed to a sympathetic, but still passive,
mother. In other words, the cave is depicted as a sort of utopian space, in which
time does not exist, and where a woman can be on her own. She has shelter, she
has food, she is safe, her body heals, she is content and independent.
In this timeless, safe, healing cave, Ikena has a chance to reflect on the events, and
to wonder whether she should finally accept the fact that she is married to Boga.
“But it all seemed so difficult and impossible”, the narrating voice concludes. “So
she decided to forget everything and live as a hermit for the rest of her life” (1415). Ikena’s Utopia, unconstrained by time and society, however, is discovered by
Boga, who lifts the vines and finds “to his surprise an entrance to the cave” (15).
Actually, it is Ikena who indicates to him the way in, thus allowing him access to
her secret space –a prefiguration of the events to come, of her accepting him as a
husband and therefore allowing him access to her body.
The happy ending of this reluctant bride finally accepting her husband seems to
indicate a mature acceptance of reality on the part of Bagita and her character. For
as much as she might relish the timeless, utopian healing experience offered by the
cave, Ikena must face her responsibilities. She must find her place in society, which,
for a PNG woman at that time, included being married. She seems to have realized
that a gentle and caring man like Boga is hard to find (her own brothers have
proved that to her) and that she would be a fool to give him up. Just as in the
classic Beauty and the Beast story, one has to learn to look beyond appearance. And
so Bagita presents her reluctant bride with a fairy tale ending –an ending she
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deserves after much suffering, healing, reflection and maturation– while at the same
time learning to accept reality.
Coming out of the cave
Readers –at least this European reader for sure– may have expected the two stories
that I have considered in this article to openly express their discontent with
traditional PNG marriage customs. In her works, Sally-Ann Bagita depicts
situations in which their female protagonists find themselves forced, by custom,
physical violence, or sense of filial duty, to accept husbands they do not want.
Nevertheless, contrary to such an expectation, her works do not so much condemn
or call for the elimination of arranged marriages and bride price, as show that a
woman can survive in a society where such practices are accepted as customary. In
other words, the female protagonists of these works do not so much proclaim their
right to marry the man of their choice or not marry at all –but rather prove
themselves to be strong enough not to become helpless victims of the difficult
circumstances in which they find themselves.
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The two stories that I have analysed seem to suggest that arranged marriages need
both the good will of the partners and the efforts of their respective families and
communities to work –and in fact, in some cases they do work. But they also point
out that differences in upbringing and education do not help establish a good, solid
relationship between the spouses. Above all, both works indicate that it is Western
influence, which comes with having grown up in an urbanized environment (like
Ikena, Boga, and Morea) that will make one reject, or fail to adapt to, the custom.
In addition, since an increasing number of PNG citizens tend to move away from
villages, the custom of arranged marriages, instead of strengthening a bond
between communities, instead of being the logical choice of two clans who bind
in marriage two people with similar background and education, becomes more and
more a constraint on those involved. In such an event, the consequences will be
abandonment, unhappiness, and divorce. Finally, the two stories imply that the
meaning of traditional customs is changing, that the traditional bonding of
communities in the exchange is decreasing.
While arranged marriages involve both partners as well as the families and
communities, and while the husbands’ unhappiness is part of the plots, the works
that I have chosen especially focus on the women’s experience, to show how
Melanesian marriage practices specifically affect them. Bagita has both her female
protagonists choose to abandon a situation of misery created by arranged marriages
–Kiri by returning to her village after her husband deserted her, Ikena by taking
refuge in a hidden cave. Kiri is reminded that she should have no regrets, but to
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move on with life, away from a city where she would live without her husband, and
without the support of her own family. The conventional happy ending of “The
Reluctant Bride” leaves readers with the feeling that Bagita –a reluctant realist?–
decided to renounce the utopian “cave of her own” and make her protagonist
Ikena accept the reality of married life. At least, however, the husband for whom
Ikena leaves her happy solitude has demonstrated by his actions to be the sort of
non-abusive man one may wish for – a rare gem in PNG, it would appear, where
70% of women are subject to domestic violence.7
In neither of these works by a PNG woman writer, in sum, is there ever an open
criticism of traditional marriage customs that, from a Western point of view, oppress
women and often deny their human rights. There may be several reasons for this.
One should first consider that the period 1973-75, when these works were written,
was a time when literary production in the country was much more preoccupied
with the relationship between previous colonizers and the newly acquired
independence than with women’s conditions. And in those times even the
description of women’s condition would probably be more immediately useful by
limiting one’s scope to what can be achieved in real life. Is it better to picture
oneself in a utopian cave or with a utopian career far from family constraints and
obligations in a fantastic story with no possible realization, one might ask, or to
admit reality, and be content in an arranged marriage with a husband who may not
have been one’s choice, might not be attractive or educated, but at least doesn’t
bash one up?8 But readers could go one step further, and wonder whether Kiri and
Ikena, in accepting their arranged marriages, are in fact demonstrating wisdom and
maturity by recognizing that the traditional value of community in Melanesian
culture is at the very least equally as important as the imported Western values of
individual freedom and rights.
Sally-Ann Bagita has shown great courage in writing her fictional works about
marriage in Melanesian society. She has given her readers typical scenarios of
marriages arranged by families between two people who hardly know each other,
who come from different backgrounds, or who may have other attachments. She
has demonstrated how different personal or societal constraints compel women into
accepting unwanted marital arrangements. She has conceived female characters who
refuse to become victims, but take responsibility for the situation in which they find
themselves. And finally, although her works affirm the acceptance of a hard reality,
she has hinted creatively toward a different, more positive destiny for women. Not
all men bash their wives; not every divorce means the end of a woman’s life. And,
should one wish for an even more utopian escape, one could always go in search
of Ikena’s grandmother’s cave. For surely it is still there, as a source of strength
and self-reliance, waiting for another woman to dare to question traditional
marriage customs in Papua New Guinea.
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Daniela Cavallaro
Notes
1
. In fact, Sally Ann Pipi (Bagita) is
the only woman writer whose work Houbein
mentions. Other works by PNG women writers
that touch on the same topic include Agnes
Luke’s story “The Botaras”, Sister Jane
Ainauga’s story “Modern Girl”, Rita Mavavi’s
story “Blackskin, Redskin”, Magdalene
Wagum’s story “An Educated Girl Faces a
Problem”, Pauline Hau’ofa’s play Brief Candle,
and Christine Mateaku’s play An Educated Girl.
The task of finding works by PNG
women writers was later made easier by a
1996 anthology, edited by Adeola James,
which in addition to literary works includes
information on, and interviews with, some of
the women writers. Most of the anthologised
works are originally from the 1980s.
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2
. A brief biographical note on and
an interview with Sally-Ann Bagita can be
found in James 135-141. Before 1981, the
writer published under her married name, Pipi.
3
. For a discussion of the changes
in marriage in a number of traditional societies
and urban settings in PNG, see Marksbury
1993.
4
. I am grateful to my students
Jean Kapi, who translated the names for me,
and Ignatius Hamal, who suggested that the
name “Ikena” sounds very similar to the
words “I can”, thus stressing the strength and
will power (obstinacy?) of the protagonist.
“Boga”, he added, sounded a lot like “boar”,
an animal to which the groom is actually
compared in the story.
5
. A slight difference between the
two published versions of the story may give
a clue to the reasons for Ikena’s unhappiness.
In the original publication, Ikena’s mother
wonders “if it was the new way of life, not the
customary way, that was eating the girl’s
heart” (1974: 4). In this passage, the “new way
of life” would be the Western way of thinking
(marriage for love), as opposed to the
“customary” (marriage as a bond with a
different clan). In the 1994 version, on the
contrary, the mother asks herself “if it was the
thought of a new way of life, of leaving her
customary way, that was eating at the girl’s
heart” (1994: 12). In this later version, the
cause of Ikena’s misery would be traced to the
sadness of leaving the life that she is used to
(“her customary way”) for the life of a married
woman (“a new way of life”). There is no
indication in the 1994 anthology Moments in
Melanesia as to the reason for the change in
the story, or whether it was the author or the
editor who changed it.
6
. The 1974 version is more explicit
than the later one on this point. During her
time in the cave, while thinking about her
situation, Ikena realizes that “there was
nothing wrong except that she found it difficult
to love Boga” (1974: 5). This line is missing
from the 1994 anthologized version. It seems,
however, to be quite essential, in as much as
it confirms Ikena’s desire to marry for love and
clarifies the reasons for her final decision to
stay with Boga: she has accepted the fact that
patience and understanding in a marriage
partner approved by the community are
probably more important that waiting for a
possible love, away from human society.
7
. “The Gender Analysis in Papua
New Guinea commissioned by the World
Bank states that 70% of women in PNG
experience domestic violence”, quotes Yawa
(2002). Other studies put the figure higher. The
Papua New Guinea Law Reform Commission
Report 1992 stated in some areas 100% of
women were beaten and that one out of six
wives living in town had to seek medical
treatment for injuries inflicted on them by their
husbands.
8
. The issue of bashing might have
been more real than literary. In a country
where women are treated as second-class
citizens and frequently submitted to verbal and
physical abuse, it may be wise of the author to
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have avoided a vocal feminist stance. In an
interview of 1992, Bagita recognized the need
for women writers to address social issues
concerning women, mentioning in particular
divorce and wife-bashing. In fact, she added
that “only a woman can deal with those
problems successfully because only a woman
can understand what the other woman feels”
(James 1996: 139). However, she explained, “I
never used to write about wife-bashing
because I knew those men might come and
bash me up. I knew a lot of instances but I kept
away from writing about that subject. It was
not safe” (140).
Works cited
AINAUGA, Sister Jane. 1974. “Modern Girl”.
Papua New Guinea Writing 13: 17.
BAGITA, Sally-Ann. 1996. “Regret Not”. In
James, Adeola. (ed.).:154-158. [first published
in 1973. Papua New Guinea Writing 11: 4-6].
CARBY, Hazel V. 1982. “White woman listen!
Black feminism and the boundaries of
sisterhood”. In Centre for Contemporary
Cultural Studies, The Empire Strikes Back.
Race and racism in 70s Britain. London:
Hutchinson: 212-235.
Catholic Bishops of Papua New Guinea and
Solomon Islands. 1993. The Christian Family in
our Changing Society. Goroka: Wirui Press.
HAU’OFA, Pauline. 1978. Brief Candle. Papua
New Guinea Writing 30: 64-77.
HOUBEIN, Lolo. 1982. “The Theme of Love in
Papua New Guinea Literature to 1976”.
Bikmaus 3: 3-39.
JAMES, Adeola. (ed.). 1996. PNG Women
Writers: An Anthology. Melbourne: Longman.
KIDU, Carol. 2002. A Remarkable Journey.
Sydney: Longman.
LUKE, Agnes. 1972. “The Botaras”. Papua New
Guinea Writing 5: 14-15.
MANTOVANI, Ennio. 1982. Marriage in the
Modern World. Goroka: Melanesian Institute.
MANTOVANI, Ennio. 1993. “Towards an
Ecumenical Theology of Marriage in
Melanesia”. Catalyst 23: 6-16.
MARKSBURY, Richard A. (ed.). 1993. The
Business of Marriage. Transformations in
Oceanic Matrimony. Pittsburgh: University of
Pittsburgh Press.
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